Moste Potente
by Lynn3
Summary: [completed] After seeing Snape and Draco together, Harry fights to forget what he had seen. Instead, he finds himself attracted to Professor Snape and discovers, as Draco did, just how appealing the Potions Master is.
1. Default Chapter

This story can be read on its own though it is a part in a series of stories, which began with Use It Wisely, followed by Let the Games Begin, Mercurial and An Understanding.  
  
~*~*~ --- scene break  
\/\/\/\/ --- Flashback Start  
/\/\/\/\ --- Flashback End   
  
Timeline: Fifth Year  
  
Moste Potente I  
Written by Lynn  
  
I shouldn't be here. Harry swallowed hard; his throat felt bruised by the hasty gulp. It did little to placate the tight knot of tension in his stomach; his arm seemed as though it was made of heavy lead. He could barely lift his hand to the doorknob. He flinched when his fingertips encountered its cool metal finish.  
  
If it's locked, you're leaving, he told himself, managing to sound stern in his own head. He quailed when the knob turned easily; his muscles clenched. His arm refused to push the door open yet he couldn't command his hand to let go of the handle.  
  
Idiot! His common sense screamed at him. Leave! Leave before it's too late- The doorknob was suddenly wrenched from his hand for someone on the other side had pulled the door open. Harry turned to ice when he saw it was Snape who had opened it.  
  
Who else could it be?! But he barely heard the irritated little voice in his head. His mind had turned sluggish as Harry's wide eyes took in the tall spare form of the Potions Master.  
  
Billowing black as a starless night robes shrouded Snape from his neck all the way down to boot-clad feet. However, the professor's sedate wear only fueled Harry's imagination and forcibly recalled memories, which had been flashing over and over again these past days regardless if he wanted to remember or not. More than a month ago, unforeseen circumstances had forced Harry to spend the night in Snape's quarters. By itself, the situation would have been intolerable had he not been in his Invisibility Cloak. Draco had been present as well, and Harry learned more than he wanted to know about the other boy's relationship with the Potions Master.  
  
Harry had seen Snape naked as sin and making love to Draco Malfoy-  
  
-who was sobbing softly, mewling like a puppy. He turned his head restlessly on the pillow, damp with sweat. His face glistened with exhaustion, mouth parted and rasping with hurried gulps of air. His gray eyes were flat, stunned, staring without seeing at Snape, who was lowering Draco's ankles from his shoulders.  
  
Harry watched as the quiet satisfaction on the older wizard's face turned into anticipation. "Turn over, Draco," he commanded lightly.  
  
"... What?" Bewilderment brought life and recognition back into Draco's eyes. He tried to sit up and succeeded only on his second attempt. Harry noticed the considerable difference between the other boy's body and Snape's. Draco seemed as though he was made of porcelain. Slender, pale, his muscles were toned but slight. Vulnerable when compared to Snape's lean and powerful physique. He could break Draco's bones, Harry realized with disquiet though he had seen and witnessed enough to be certain that the professor would never hurt Draco.  
  
Snape began to tease Draco, reassuring, encouraging him. Kisses again. Harry felt his mouth go dry as Snape tilted Draco's chin up and aside, allowing him easier access to the boy's mouth. Draco moaned, the sound was helpless and wanting, as Snape kissed him deeply in what Harry could only assume was a kiss with tongue or a French kiss, something which he had first heard about from Dudley, of all people, last summer.  
  
Harry had been revolted by his cousin's unwanted descriptions of the kisses he bragged he had had with girls. Overhearing Dudley's explanation to Piers of what a French kiss was brought about a very unwelcome picture of Dudley kissing a girl. It was an image, which was nearly enough to make Harry never want to experience kissing. The first time he had seen Draco kiss Snape caused a similar reaction.  
  
But not this time. This time, he didn't even want to look away as he had before. Harry couldn't stop staring this time. He heard the softest sigh when their lips separated for air; Harry didn't know he had made it, and he forgot about it when Draco uttered a desperate noise and began kissing Snape again. His arms wound around the professor's neck, his hands and fingers running through the wizard's hair, fondling, rubbing as though the strands were soft as down and not greasy in the least. The latter gave Harry cause to wonder on whether or not Snape's hair was indeed oily to the touch as he had always assumed it would be.  
  
The question left Harry's mind abruptly when warm hands settled on his shoulders, jarring him back to the present. He blinked, shocked by the physical contact; roiling darkness covered his sight entirely. Harry jumped when a dry amused voice whispered into his ear, "Aren't you going to come in, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
~*~*~  
  
It had taken a great of deal of control not to kiss his young lover then and there in the hallway outside his room. Snape shook his head, amused and exasperated when Draco just stared at him. Head tilted up slightly, mouth parted in breathless wonder, those luminous gray eyes worshipping him. He was playing yet another game, Snape had thought immediately, finding himself entertained as always by Draco's multitude of attempts to tempt him. This method would have been successful had Draco waited after he was inside the room before proceeding to stare at Snape like a love-struck teenager, pretending to be dazed in his very presence.  
  
What an excellent actor he is, thought Snape as Draco stumbled, preceding him into his room. He appeared very awkward. Even his legs trembled when he turned around to watch as Snape shut the door. Again, Snape shook his head, impressed by Draco's fine pretense. He looked away from the boy for a few moments, turning his eyes to the doorknob, which he locked before sliding the deadbolt in place. He missed the utter panic that raged across Draco's face before it was forced to subside. When he looked back at Draco, the boy was regarding him calmly, and Snape mused, Did he truly expect I wouldn't punish him?  
  
~*~*~  
  
His heart was hammering wildly, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, the intelligent part of Harry J. Potter was saying in too soft a voice that he should leave now!  
  
But he couldn't move; his chest felt tight. His breathing sounded harsh in his ears. His eyes were fixed on the hollow of Snape's throat. He could see the faint pulsing beneath waxen skin; his eyes lifting, following it as wizard drew nearer. Harry felt dry warmth touch his face and jerked, only then realizing how close Snape was standing to him, his left hand was on Harry's right cheek.  
  
As he fought to keep calm as that hand slipped down, agile fingers pressing on the sensitive flesh underneath Harry's jaw. He couldn't resist when his head was tilted up; he had only scant moments to draw in a panicked gulp of air before Snape's mouth settled over his.  
  
His first kiss. Harry nearly choked as another's lips glided slowly leisurely over his trembling ones. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his nerves to settle. In the next instant, his eyes snapped open, fearful that Snape might have seen his alarm. When he saw that the professor's eyes were closed, his face relaxed in sleepy repose, Harry felt a bit calmer, however he barely suppressed a surprised yelp when Snape's right hand settled on the small of his back. He almost tore his mouth away when that same hand drifted lower and pushed Harry forward. He stumbled, freezing when he fell against Snape.  
  
Instinctively, his hands rose, palms bracing their owner away and against the nearest solid object, which was the Potions Master's chest. Harry felt as though he was about to go mad when he heard and felt Snape's low laugh against his lips. He couldn't meet the half-lidded dark eyes that gleamed with amusement. Harry almost drew away when Snape straightened, ending their kiss. Both their hands, dropping to their respective sides. For a while, they just stood close to each other. Harry's head was bowed as the boy fought to control himself. Snape had also tilted his head down, watching him, noting the small shudders that racked his slender frame.  
  
He never did like losing control of himself even if he is the one who initiates, thought Snape, his musing sounding quiet in his own mind. He ran his fingers through Draco's silky hair. There was the slightest of jerks. Draco had flinched at his touch, and again, Snape regretted his having giving in to the boy's demands.  
  
I should have forced both of us to be patient, he thought with a mental sigh and wondered if it was possible to end their relationship cleanly or at least wait until Draco was older.  
  
It is up to him, decided Snape, lowering his hand before moving away from Draco to go to his desk where he had prepared the boy's punishment.  
  
"Tonight, you will draw a herb chart," he declared in his most no-nonsense tone of voice.  
  
After a few moments, behind him came a faint, "What?" Snape turned to find Draco, head lifted, staring at him with bewilderment.  
  
"It's your punishment, Draco," Snape said in a very dry tone as an answer to Draco's single-syllable query.  
  
"For what?" the boy asked, still puzzled and increasingly so.  
  
Snape almost berated him for feigning innocence. Instead, he decided to play along though his temper was being severely tested. Draco was never easy to deal with. "For that tasteless stunt you pulled on Potter in yesterday's Quidditch game," he said severely.  
  
He found himself reluctantly admiring Draco's acting skills when instead of being smug about it as he should be, the boy's face turned cherry red with embarrassment instead. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, and Draco turned even more flustered.  
  
He's suspicious of you! shouted Harry's good sense, jarring him to the realization that he wasn't acting the way Draco would when reminded of a mischievous and dangerous deed he had accomplished. Draco would certainly be not repentant for anything he had done even if it was his own father scolding him.  
  
Draco's cheating in the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin was one of the reasons why Harry was here, pretending to be Draco.  
  
\/\/\/\/  
  
For the first time, Harry wished Dumbledore hadn't given him his father's Invisibility Cloak. Though upon later reflection, he would have to admit that it had done more good than evil.  
  
Evil. It was evil and insane to yearn for something that shouldn't be or dreaming of something that hadn't happened. A hard experienced mouth prying his lips open, large skilled hands roaming over him, touching, caressing. Harry shuddered, jerking his eyes open, waking up before the dream could go further. It was a nightmare, it had to be.  
  
Angry frustrated tears blurred his already blurry eyes. Harry stared at the hazy dark canopy over his bed. It was dim in the dormitory he shared with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean. The only light came from the windows. Soft starlight, there was no moon tonight. Harry could hear his friends' slow deep breathing, a few snorts muffled against pillows and sheets, low sleepy grumbles. None of them snored.  
  
Harry, forget about it. His own will sounded tired in his head, as weary as its owner who hadn't had a decent night's rest for many days. He just couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. Remembering was more accurate. Fantasizing was more truthful. When he began seeing himself with Snape, replacing Draco in troubled recollections, Harry knew he was lusting after the Potions Master.  
  
Of all the people... Harry! He scolded himself furiously, but it was a futile attempt to regain sanity. He wanted to know. His curiosity had sharpened to a painful intensity until he just had to find out if it would be how he imagined it would feel. He wanted to know how it would feel to be in Draco's place, to have Snape make love to him.  
  
Of all the things to be finally envious of about Draco... Harry swallowed his envy, forcing it down to lie as a cold twisting knot in his stomach. The professor treated Draco so differently than he did Harry. Everything was different, from the way he regarded Draco to the tone of voice he used when addressing the other boy. The fondness Harry saw gleam many times in the wizard's black eyes whenever Snape saw Draco, Harry now envied and resented.  
  
Jealous. Harry would have laughed derisively at himself had he been alone. I'm jealous of Draco Malfoy... He coughed as the suppressed laugh caught in his throat instead. That is pathetic. Harry Potter jealous of Draco Malfoy, and because of Professor Severus Snape. What a field day the tabloids would have. Even respectable media would be interested.  
  
With a tight groan, Harry rolled over and buried his face into his pillow. What was he thinking? There was no way he would ever know Snape that way. The professor could barely tolerate Harry's presence, much less hold a decent conversation with him.  
  
He hates me. Has always hated me since first year, most likely had already started hating me before I came to Hogwarts. Probably on the day I was born. Because of my father who saved his life. Harry was suddenly angry. It wasn't fair of Snape to just hate him, because of James Potter.  
  
Jaw clenching with resentment, Harry turned his face, pressing his cheek against the pillow, his eyes staring at the shadowed door leading out of the room.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Harry?" Hermione had to repeat twice before Harry heard her. He gave her a quizzical look, pausing with one leg over the bench. He was about to leave the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.  
  
"You barely touched your dinner," Ron managed to say discernibly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione gave him a reprimanding look for talking while his mouth was full. Ron didn't notice or chose not to notice.  
  
"I'm not very hungry," said Harry. Hermione turned a worried face to him. "You've not been very hungry lately," she said.  
  
"You have gotten thinner, Harry" added Ginny, who had been listening in on their conversation. Like Hermione, she also looked concerned.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry said hastily, wanting only to leave as quickly as possible. He was about to when George suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to his seat.  
  
"Wha-" Fred started piling Harry's barely soiled plate with a roasted chicken drumstick, a slab of grilled sturgeon, stewed beef- His twin assisted, and quickly the mound of food on Harry's plate reached three inches high.  
  
Harry protested, "I can't eat it all of this!" He tried to replace the portions in their respective serving dishes, but the twins interrupted him.  
  
"Harry, Harry," George tsked wisely. "You should never waste any opportunity to eat a good solid and delicious meal." He grabbed another drumstick and stuck it into Harry's hand.  
  
"But-" began Harry, breaking off when Fred lifted his hand in front of Harry's face. He was holding what appeared to be a large chocolate frosted brownie, wrapped in plastic.   
  
"... What is that?" asked Harry, feeling dumb and thickheaded. George and Fred grinned simultaneously.  
  
"We call them Polyjuice Pastries," said Fred in a low voice so that only Harry, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny could hear.  
  
"We'll have to change the name though," murmured George just as secretively. "You see..."  
  
"It's sort of illegal to use Polyjuice," continued Fred.  
  
"It's shameful what some people would use them for," said George with disdain.  
  
"Indeed. Indeed." Fred shook his head. "You should hear the stories we've heard."  
  
George said, "Wizards and witches Polyjuicing themselves just so that they could get into other people's robes."  
  
"Shameful!" Fred declared, sounding very serious.  
  
"And they usually get caught," muttered George, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Well, the original potion does only last an hour," said Fred reflectively. "That's hardly enough time.  
  
"And how long does your pastries last?" queried Ron with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Three hours." George beamed with pride. Fred chuckled and stuck the brownie into Harry's hand (the one that wasn't holding a drumstick).  
  
"How did you do it?" Hermione's eyes gleamed with great interest, and Harry barely heard the discussion that followed. Something about the twins applying the Alcmena Algorithm while brewing the Polyjuice Potion.  
  
"Alcmena Algorithm..." repeated Hermione thoughtfully. "Professor Vector mentioned about that in class. It extends magic by three times."  
  
"Correct," said George. Fred added that it took them forever to figure out how to use the algorithm in a potion.  
  
"This will be a bestseller," said Fred with pride, but George said that they couldn't bake many pastries since some of the ingredients were very hard to come by. It was also then that Harry found out that Ron and Hermione had given them the boomslang skin they had stolen from Snape's personal supply over a month ago on that night when Harry and his Invisibility Cloak had wound up in the Potion Master's bedroom.  
  
"We weren't using it," Ron said by way of an explanation when he noticed the strange expression on Harry's face.  
  
~*~*~  
  
That night, again, in bed, Harry stared at the same canopy he had been sleeping under almost each night at Hogwarts. The other boys were already sleeping soundly in their beds while he was still wide-awake and restless though he was exhausted. Harry glanced at his nightstand where he had placed the Polyjuice Pastry the Weasley Twins had given to him. It was under a pile of folded clothes, which he would be wearing the next day.  
  
Harry felt as though fate was teasing him. He'd just been handed an opportunity to fulfill that deep dark want that was making him miserable. Polyjuice into Draco... For a short time, he would be Draco Malfoy. Snape would think he was Draco.  
  
Heat warmed Harry's cold cheeks as again his own imagination sought to embarrass him with lurid fantasies. Like a ghost materializing, Snape appeared, towering over him. The tender amused smile he reserved for Draco playing on his lips. As Draco had, Harry closed his eyes as the wizard bent down and kissed him.  
  
It felt real, so real. He knew it wasn't and that it was so wrong. Yet, he wanted it to be real... He could feel the professor's weight pushing him against the bed-  
  
No! He forced his eyes open, the imagined pressure on his lips vanished, and all Harry could see was the dark canopy above defined by shadows. Abruptly, he realized how loud his breathing was and quickly quieted himself. He listened carefully to the noises all around him and breathed an inward sigh of relief that Ron and the others were still sound asleep.  
  
Harry stifled a shameful sob when he discovered he was aroused.  
  
~*~*~  
  
On Saturday, on a chilly November morning, the first Quidditch game of the season began. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Harry barely heard George's pep talk before the match started. In mid-air, facing Draco, Harry forced himself to pay attention as Madam Hooch opened the Quidditch chest to let the bludgers out and to set the Golden Snitch free.  
  
The crowd's cheers and roaring sounded like faraway continuous thunder in his ears. Harry vaguely noticed the feral gleam in Draco's gray eyes. Harry was late in starting, jerking from his reverie when the opening whistle was sounded. The Quaffle was tossed high up, immediately snatched by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina.  
  
Thankfully, his mind cleared as the game progressed, and Harry's Seeker instinct overruled all his thoughts and actions. His mind was mercifully blank of all but the need to find the Golden Snitch. His hands and legs automatically gripped and turned his Firebolt when necessary as he cruised in a zone higher above the rest of the players, who were fighting over the Quaffle. With ease, he evaded the bludgers that came his way, thinking of them as inconsequential. His focus was on the Snitch and partly on Draco who was seeking the same.  
  
A gleam of fluttering gold caught his eyes. Harry urged his broom towards it the moment that Draco spotted the Snitch whizzing around Madam Hooch hovering on her broom in mid-field. Harry was a second ahead of Draco, the other boy just a broom's length behind. A bludger suddenly streaked passed Harry, just a whisker of missing his broom handle. He was distracted, his eyes flicking from the Snitch momentarily, but when he looked back, it was still there. There was an encompassing cry of disappointment that came from the Slytherins as Harry drew closer to the runaway Snitch, still ahead of Draco.  
  
Then- Lee's Sonorous-magnified voice yelled, "Will you look at that?!" In the next moment, what appeared like a horizontal spinning top entered Harry's field of vision. He glanced aside and gasped.  
  
Draco was doing Spiral Speeding, a dangerous maneuver where the flier held himself as flat to the broom handle as possible and turned, spinning, increasing the broom's speed marginally, enough for a Nimbus 2001 to overtake a Firebolt. It left the Quidditch player attempting it to become horribly dizzy.  
  
And quickly enough, Draco halted the spin, his eyes were clenched close, he shook his head once before opening them. The maneuver had done its work. He was now abreast with Harry, and the Snitch was in hand's reach. He stuck out his hand and snarled with fury when Harry got it first.  
  
"HARRY'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS BY- FOUL!"  
  
Barely had his fingers closed over the wildly fluttering ball when sharp mind-numbing pain exploded in his stomach. Tears forced themselves from his eyes, Harry turned to Draco who had kicked his foot straight into Harry's unprotective stomach. The Snitch escaped from his listless fingers as black whirled around the edges of his vision. His other hand clenched once on the broomstick handle before losing its grip as Harry fell off his Firebolt.  
  
/\/\/\/\  
  
To be continued.  
  
Moste Potente Notes:  
  
Alcmena - In Greek mythology, daughter of Electryon (King of Mycenae), wife of Amphitryon, and mother (by Zeus) of Hercules. The legend is that at the conception of Hercules, Zeus (in the guise of Amphitryon), for additional pleasure with Alcmena, made the night the length of three ordinary nights.  
  
Use It Wisely Notes: (late addition)  
  
Vervain - Herba sacra. The "divine weed," said by the Romans to cure the bites of all rabid animals, to arrest the progress of venom, to cure the plague, to avert sorcery and witchcraft, to reconcile enemies, etc. 


	2. Moste Potente II

This story can be read on its own though it is a part in a series of stories, which began with Use It Wisely, followed by Let the Games Begin, Mercurial & An Understanding. Moste Potente I follows aU.  
Warning: This story is slash. If you don't know what slash is, then you should not read this.  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters in this story.

~*~*~ --- scene break  


Harry Potter Fanfiction  
"Moste Potente II"  
Written by Lynn

Absolute misery weighed down on Harry's shoulders as he stared at the complex herb chart he had to copy from a thick dusty book to a wide piece of parchment. The chair he was sitting on was unyielding and uncomfortable. His back was already beginning to hurt though he had only been seated for no longer than a minute, and his nose was itching from the dust.

He sneezed. On the other side of the desk, Snape lifted his head from the papers he was grading and frowned when he saw that Draco hadn't begun.

"You are not leaving until you finished it," he said firmly. After a few moments, not daring to meet the wizard's eyes, Harry lifted his hand and took a feather quill from its inkbottle. Snape looked satisfied and lowered his eyes back down to continue his own work. Curious, Harry craned his head to peer at whose papers he was checking.

It was from their class. Harry could see Hermione's name on the parchment that Snape was currently grading. As he watched, Snape carefully read the homework on truth serum potions they had handed in last Friday. Hermione's essay was perfect, and the look on Snape's face said that he had expected that.

Ron's paper was next, and Snape's expression turned disgruntled as he noted numerous errors. Not wishing to see how the professor would grade his paper, Harry looked at the blank piece of parchment in front of him, wondered how to begin the construction of a herb chart and worried on how to get out of this mess.

He wished he had listened to his common sense, which had told him it was suicide to pretend to be Draco. What had he hoped to accomplished?

His hand tightened around the quill, crushing the feather. ... What had he hoped for... Idiot. Stupid. Moron. He had wanted one night with Snape. A one nightstand, and look at the huge trouble he had gotten himself into.

For the clear intention to injure Harry during the Quidditch game yesterday, Draco had been given a week's detention. It would have been more, but Snape interceded, pointing out that Quidditch is a rough game, and that it is meant to be brutal. The use of bludgers was a clear indication; and with emotions and rivalries at fever pitched, players were bound to hurt each other. In the hospital wing, Ron and Hermione told Harry that McGonagall and Snape's argument became so heated, it looked as though wands would have been drawn out had Dumbledore not interrupted them.

Madam Pomfrey had released Harry from the hospital wing on Sunday morning. After finding out that Draco would have to do Mr. Filch's bidding the entire day, he felt quite cheerful. At dinnertime, Harry had seen Draco dozing off at the Slytherin table. The other boy was clearly exhausted and had to be supported by his friends to the Slytherin Dungeon after the meal was through.

"He's asleep already," Harry heard Crabbe said as he and Goyle walked towards the doors, supporting a listless Draco in between them. A few moments after they had left, Snape left the staff table with a contemplative expression on his sallow face.

When Harry had seen a corner of the wizard's mouth quirking up in amusement, hot determination suddenly stiffened his resolve, and he decided on this foolish quest of pretending to be Draco Malfoy.

The same had all but ended in failure. It was a folly to begin with. Harry could feel numbing panic rising in him. He wanted so badly to stand up and run to the door. He just wanted to get away. Why had he done this in the first place? Why had he gone back into the serpent's den?

His head bowed over the parchmentwork he had to do in Draco's place, Harry tried to remember how exactly he even reached up to the point where he found himself standing in front of Snape's door.

His hazy memory recollected him going up to Gryffindor Tower right after dinner to get his Invisibility Cloak. He was careful not to let Ron and Hermione become worried by his going off on an excursion without them. He had told them he wanted to go to bed early and had drawn the curtains close around his bed before putting on the cloak and going down to the Gryffindor common room, where he was discreet in opening the portrait hole before heading down to the dungeons.

Once there, he had followed a group Slytherin first-years into their common room. Just as he entered it, he spotted Goyle coming out of a door at the far end of the long dungeon. Surmising that the door must lead to Draco's dormitory, Harry quickly headed to it and came out into a dead end passageway, which connected to five doors. Harry balked upon entering through one of the doors and discovering that the Slytherins each had separated rooms.

There was only one bed in this room whose walls were covered by finely carved wooden panels. There was a silver chandelier hanging down from the center of the ceiling; its six white candles alit with soft yellow flames. Harry saw Draco asleep, laying flat on his stomach, in the bed on the far end of the room from him. As he stepped into the room, Harry noticed that the floor was a mosaic of a large serpent twined around a globe.

After a few moments of just looking around the room dumbfounded expression, Harry ordered himself to ignore the opulent interior and proceeded to get what he had came for, a strand of Draco's hair. And to make sure that the boy wouldn't wake up anytime soon, Harry poured a Sleeping Draught into the crystal pitcher of water on the carved mother-of-pearl night stand besides Draco's king-sized four-poster bed with embroidered green and silver silk curtains.

Harry clearly remembered feeling irritated with all Slytherins in general.

After leaving the Slytherin dormitory, Harry had headed back to Gryffindor Tower. He went up to his dormitory just as Ron and the others were calling it a night. He removed the cloak quickly and slipped into bed just as they arrived. He pretended to be asleep when Ron pulled back the curtains slightly to check up on him. Harry heard Neville asking if he was all right, and Ron saying that he was sleeping soundly. Seamus had commented that he (Harry) would back to himself in the morning.

Then came the muffled conversation between his four friends. Despite their low voices, Harry heard every word said. They were worried about him. He had been acting peculiar this past month. Dean asked Ron what was wrong, but Ron quietly answered that he didn't know as well since Harry wouldn't tell him what had happened.

"What could it be?" Seamus murmured. "It must be something very difficult since he won't tell you."

Ron sounded uncertain. "I'm sure Harry will tell me when he's ready to."

Harry felt guilty at the hurt in his best friend's voice and wondered if he could ever tell Ron.

~*~*~

He still hasn't begun. Snape replaced his quill back into its inkbottle and considered Draco who was just staring at the still empty parchment in front of him. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in the boy's eyes.

~*~*~

"I suppose you have been punished enough for today." Harry didn't know when the professor stood up from his chair and walked around to his side of the table. He only realized the wizard was standing behind him when long-fingered hands settled on his shoulders and began a firm massage.

Harry tried to turn around, but Snape's hands forbade him to. The crushed feather quill fell, its point spattering ink across the clean parchment surface when the professor dragged the chair around with Harry seated in it to face him. The harsh scrape of wood against stone still rang in his ears as Snape bent down to one knee in front of him.

He smiled at Harry's stunned expression and said, "Surprise that I had given in so easily eh, Mr. Malfoy? Let us leave the credit to your thespian skills."

What is he talking about? Harry thought numbly. At the same time, trying to deal with a sudden surge of excitement as Snape reached for the fastenings of Harry's robes.

Don't let him... the order trailed off as anticipation swept away reason. Harry's eyes latched onto the sharp lines of Snape's face as the professor focused on undoing the boy's robes. The first clasp was quickly opened. A tiny startled noise, a half-hiccup, escaped from Harry's throat. He flushed beet red when black eyes flicked to him, amusement warming the usual cold.

There was also affection, clear and unguarded. Little wonder that Draco was never afraid of his House Head. If Snape looked at Harry that way, he wouldn't be afraid either. Helpless, Harry just stared back at Snape, feeling himself drowning in the Potion Master's regard yet unwilling to look away.

I feel... captured. The realization came slowly to Harry's mind, and even as it made it self clear, he still couldn't break away. And it seemed, neither could Snape, for he sighed softly, sounding as helpless as Harry felt.

"Don't look at me that way, Draco," he murmured. Harry started when long powerful hands framed his face. He blinked once before Snape pulled him forward, gentle yet forceful. Harry stumbled out of his chair, instinctively thrusting his hands out for support. They found and grabbed the professor's shoulders as Harry fell heavily against Snape, his limbs awkwardly straddling a lean muscled thigh.

"Sir-" His cry was caught off abruptly. Snape was kissing him again, this time not in a gentle leisurely manner as before. His mouth was hard, almost brutal on Harry's. He tried to pull away, but Snape's hand was over the back of his head, keeping a firm constant push. His other hand was on the small of Harry's back, holding the boy steady and secure against him though Harry still felt off-balanced in his sprawled position.

Harry soon lost interest in his posture as Snape's mouth gentled, becoming playful instead of aggressive. A tiny wanton noise escaped from his throat as he began to return the professor's kisses. A sound of frustration followed when Snape pulled away and stood up, bringing Harry to stand along with him.

His robes were quickly removed. As the thick cloth pooled around his feet, he was pulled forward towards the bed. Harry stumbled towards it, barely aware of what he was doing, thinking in the back of his mind that this must be how it felt like to be drunk.

Snape's hand felt like a burning brand on his elbow. The bed felt ridiculously soft underneath Harry as he laid down on it while the professor was a warm heavy weight on top of him.

His lips, his hands, his body... Harry closed his eyes. They were useless for his mind was unable to process what he was seeing, too overwhelmed by other sensations. His ears burned, filled by the sound of harsh breathing. Instinctively, he took in air through his mouth instead. It was faster and easier unless Snape's mouth was sealing his lips and subjecting Harry to his taste, which the boy identified as an unusual minty flavor.

Time became meaningless as Harry lost track of its passing and of himself. His body felt as though it didn't belong to him. He had no control whatsoever over it. His legs turned leaden, his stomach too light then suddenly tight, butterflies of anticipation fluttering in it.

***

Draco was ready. Snape smiled, feeling predatory, as the boy writhed underneath him, desperate moans wordlessly begging Snape to take him. Draco's hands roamed around his back, pressing, pushing, urging him to come closer. He stilled when Snape slipped his hand underneath his chin and tilted his face up for another kiss. His other hand slid down to their stomachs and lightly played with the boy's erection.

Draco gasped at the tactile contact and thrust against his hand. Then, the unexpected happened. The boy climaxed, emptying himself into Snape's hand. Snape froze, startled while Draco shuddered, his hips moving jerkily until it was over. Gray eyes, stared at Snape, wide and utterly surprised before glazing over as exhaustion closed them.

He fell asleep immediately afterwards, leaving the wizard to look down at him with a bewildered expression. That had happened too quickly.

"Draco." There was no reaction from him as Snape lightly touched the boy's face with his other hand. Seeing Draco's profile in its soft somnambulistic state proved too tempting. Drawn in, Snape bent his head and kissed his student's slightly parted lips; he pressed them further apart with his own before delving his tongue into Draco's mouth.

Sweet and all too alluring, asleep or awake, the boy was irresistible. Snape's hands move without him realizing, resting on the boy's thighs and parting them. His hands worked quickly, preparing Draco. Snape lifted his head, releasing Draco's mouth as he rose to his knees before turning the boy over to lie on his stomach.

Pressing his lips against Draco's hair, Snape placed his elbows on both sides of the boy's shoulders, bracing himself against the bed as he prepared to enter his young lover. A soft sleepy sigh made him pause. Draco mumbled in his sleep, his body shifting underneath Snape before stilling again.

After a few moments, Snape pushed himself off the boy and off the bed. He walked towards the bathroom, but not before lifting the bed sheets to cover Draco, and shook his head at himself for what he had been about to do.

Draco just had a grueling Quidditch game not two days and a day of detention today, and you almost, for a lack of a more suitable term, fucked him while he's sleeping, Snape's irked and much battered conscience berated him.

The cold shower he took staving off his lust for the time being, Snape was toweling his hair dry as he came out of the bathroom. He paused when he caught sight of Draco, who had rolled over to sleep on his back while Snape had been showering. Snape smiled at this, lowering his hand and leaving the towel to hang down from his head as he walked back to the bed and sat down beside the boy.

Snape spent a long while just watching Draco sleeping. He stopped when a yawn reminded him that it was past midnight and that he did have an early class that day.  


To be continued.

Moste Potente III will be available soon. If you have feedback, please email me or use FF.net's review system. It's always nice to know what other people think of the story. ~Lynn (lynneth_ang@yahoo.com) (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=155898) 


	3. Moste Potente III

This story can be read on its own though it is a part in a series of stories, which began with Use It Wisely, followed by Let the Games Begin, Mercurial & An Understanding. Moste Potente follows aU.  
Warning: This story is slash. If you don't know what slash is, then you should not read this.  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters in this story.  
  
Moste Potente III  
Written by Lynn  
  
The dreams continued to haunt him. Harry stared at Snape towering over him. A smile matched the amused gleam in the wizard's eyes. Only a twitch in a corner of Snape's lips warned Harry before the professor's long heavy body settled on top of him.  
  
He woke up with a cry. His arms flailed, hands pushing against the bed, bracing himself as he sat up. Distressed, he didn't notice the alarmed movement beside him, only vaguely realizing that the room was dimly lit. The only light came from the fireplace.  
  
"Draco?"   
  
Harry yelped, twisting away from the hands that had suddenly gripped his shoulders. In his haste to get away, he would have fallen out of bed had Snape not grabbed his arm and pulled him back.  
  
"Calm down," whispered Snape. His arms slipped around Harry in a loose embrace as the boy began to tremble. "A nightmare?" queried Snape softly, his lips brushing Harry's temple.  
  
"Y-yes," Harry managed to get out before Snape became suspicious. Rising panic was fortunately quelling his shaking though it was also paralyzing him.  
  
He stamped down on a jolt of surprise when Snape asked if he wished to talk about his nightmare.  
  
"No," said Harry immediately, his voice, steady and short. He was grateful when Snape didn't pry and wondered if Draco had nightmares often. That line of thought was cut off when Snape's lips settled over his.  
  
Oh God... He couldn't move. As much as he tried to, it was as though his mind was screaming useless commands to his muscles. However, his awareness had been heightened to such a level that time seemed to pass painfully slow.  
  
His mouth... his hands... They were torture of the most troubling kind, that of delightful pleasure. Harry couldn't fight back even if he wanted to. It was insane to resist. Why should he struggle against it? He wanted this.  
  
Harry felt like a limp doll as Snape made him to lay back down on the bed. He closed his eyes when the professor lifted his head. Harry flinched when Snape's mouth settled on the side of his neck. A lump formed in his throat when the professor sighed.  
  
"I'm sorry." Harry's eyes snapped open at this. At the same time, Snape lifted his head and looked at him with somber eyes. Harry started when Snape touched his cheek and bent down. Expecting to be kissed again, he was utterly surprised when Snape only pressed his forehead against his, leaving a half inch of air separating their lips. Warm breath wafted against Harry's face.  
  
"I care a great deal for you, Draco," he said, phrasing each word slowly, sounding as though he was struggling to say them. Harry was suddenly filled with horrible guilt.  
  
Snape blinked when a finger barred his lips.  
  
"Don't," whispered Harry urgently, and the emotion that crossed Snape's face at this gave him the strength the act. He pushed against Snape, causing the other wizard to back off in surprise, and Harry quickly took the opportunity to slid out from under him and get out of the bed.  
  
As soon as his feet struck the cold floor, panic returned with a vengeance, nearly freezing Harry on the spot. He brutally squashed it down and went to retrieve his clothes.  
  
"Draco, what is going on?" Snape said just as Harry was picking up his robes.   
  
He didn't turn around, didn't bother to, didn't dare to. The anger in Snape's voice didn't frighten him, but the hurt it thinly masked made Harry's stomach clench in pain.  
  
I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have come here. Harry was furious with himself as he quickly dressed himself, all the while expecting that Snape would be coming up behind him any second soon. But there wasn't even another word from the professor.  
  
Decent, Harry turned around and found the other wizard standing beside the bed, an expression of utter confusion on his face. He opened his mouth to say something to Harry but closed it abruptly, looking even more perplexed.  
  
Snape's speechlessness amused Harry, but a twinge of envy bothered him. Draco could cause the Potions Master to be at a loss for words, but Harry could inspire curse words in a heartbeat.  
  
The professor wouldn't be silent for long. The Polyjuice was wearing off. There was sharp intake of air from Snape as the transformation begun. It wouldn't take long and returning to his original form was painless. Not that taking on Draco's physical appearance was painful. It was actually far easier to endure when compared to the time Harry had taken on Goyle's shape. Perhaps it was because he and Draco were similar in stature.  
  
Harry was very surprised when Snape hadn't yelled. Instead, he turned waxy pale and stuttered Harry's name. "Po-Potter?"  
  
He backed away when Harry took a step towards him. Snape bumped against the bed, nearly falling down had he not grabbed a post to steady himself. Harry couldn't help but smile when Snape snatched the bedcover and wrapped it around his waist, looking very awkward.  
  
Then, he exploded.  
  
"I WILL HAVE YOU EXPELLED FOR THIS, POTTER!"  
  
Harry couldn't help it. He laughed, long, heartily and unreserved. It was such a silly notion. He felt so free. The worries and pains of past months no longer hampered him, and the only thing which irked him now was why he hadn't had thought to simply confront Snape in the first place.  
  
A snarl warned him, and Harry forced himself to be quiet. Snape was livid. Had he had his wand, he would have hexed Harry right then and then. Instead, he tried to get to Harry, to wring his neck no doubt, but the sheet impeded him. It was all Harry could do not to double over and start laughing again at the sight of Snape stumbling about.  
  
Snape spotted his robes discarded on floor beside the bed. Quickly, he bent over, but Harry took out his wand and cast the same spell Snape had used on Lupin in the Shrieking Shack two years ago.   
  
"I cannot allow you to have your wand, Sir." Snape resisted when Harry tried to help him sit up on the bed. He had fallen across it when the conjured ropes bound his ankles, arms and wrists.  
  
Harry hesitated before removing the gag from the professor's mouth. He almost replaced it when Snape started screaming.  
  
"RELEASE ME AT ONCE! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS-"  
  
"You'll have no part of me unless I want you to," interrupted Harry in a mild tone. Confusion jarred the fury in Snape's face, disgust following. His lips curled back, barring teeth; his eyes were murderous.  
  
Harry knew he had no chance. Not now, not this way. He had gone about it all wrong. He shouldn't have done this charade, pretending to be Draco and tricking Snape into making love to him. He should have been honest as he was about to be now. Belated as it was, Harry could only hope it wasn't too late.  
  
"I saw you and Draco," he said before Snape could curse him.  
  
The professor's eyes widened. "What?" he gasped.  
  
Harry swallowed, wishing he could look away from Snape, but that would be cowardly, and Harry knew he had to be strong or at least seem brave. Especially with this wizard.  
  
"I saw you with Draco," Harry said. He waved his wand arm a bit, indicating the room. "Here. I saw him here with you, and you two were... engrossed with each other." There was nothing Harry could do to keep from blushing as he found himself unwillingly remembering what he had witnessed.  
  
Harry didn't like the way Snape's eyes narrowed, a sly gleam in their depths.  
  
"You saw us?" he asked lightly. "How?"  
  
"... I was under my Invisibility Cloak," Harry whispered, hypnotized by those eyes. He couldn't look away even if he had wanted to.  
  
"Ah... that cloak. Of course. How else but with that very useful cloak. Do you have it now?"  
  
"No, I left it hidden in a safe place in the hallway."  
  
"Clever," breathed Snape, the approval in his voice warming Harry.  
  
"You're not angry?" Harry said hesitantly.  
  
"Not anymore. Now that I know why you took Mr. Malfoy's form." Snape smiled. "You liked what you saw I did to him."  
  
"Yes," blurted Harry before he could stop himself. He blushed redder as Snape chuckled; the sound was low and seductive.  
  
"Come closer, boy." Harry began to suspect that Snape had somehow cast Imperius on him when his feet obediently moved him nearer to the bed.  
  
"Don't worry," Snape murmured before Harry could pull himself back. He wriggled on the bed, arranging his body in a more comfortable position. The sheet slipped. He tugged on ropes binding his wrists together. "You made certain I'm quite harmless," he reminded Harry.  
  
Dazed, Harry could barely believe this was Snape. But. His fingers tightened around his wand. He wasn't going to let himself be tricked.  
  
"Would you like to kiss me, boy?" Harry froze.  
  
"... What?"  
  
Snape repeated patiently, "Would you like to kiss me?"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. I would kiss you; however, it is rather difficult for me to do anything at the moment."  
  
Harry eyed him suspiciously. Snape gave him a bemused stare in return.  
  
"All right," Snape said after a silent minute passed. Harry backed away when the professor maneuvered himself to sit on the side of the bed.  
  
"Is this better?"  
  
"Better?"  
  
"Easier for you to kiss me, Mr. Potter," explained Snape dryly.  
  
"You want me to kiss you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I prefer lovemaking to include kissing," stated Snape blandly.  
  
Flustered, Harry scowled at him. "You're trying to trick me."  
  
"Perhaps I am; however, unless you intend to report this to the Headmaster, which I doubt you will seeing as you haven't done so before, you will have to do something which can only be one of two. Release me in which case I will have my way with you. Or keep me tied up whereupon you will have me at your leisure."  
  
"What if I just leave?" Harry said testily, struggling to keep his mind off what Snape deduced Harry would do. It wasn't easy. His imagination, in particular, was producing very unsettling scenes.  
  
"You won't do that." Snape exuded irritating confidence. "That would be very boring, and teenagers rarely take the boring option."  
  
"Don't think you know me so well!"  
  
"I don't, Harry, and I won't pretend to," said Snape quickly. Harry felt embarrassed by his loss of control and doubly so by the considering stare Snape leveled at him. At this very moment, leaving appeared the most attractive option to him. It was the safest.  
  
Harry took a step towards the door, pausing when Snape said, "But I know teenagers, Harry." He turned back to the professor, whose eyes once again reminded Harry of the mesmerizing stare of a serpent.  
  
"You and Mr. Malfoy aren't the only students to find me attractive, Mr. Potter, and I am not trying to flatter myself. You are becoming aware of your sexuality, and whatever circumstances, which resulted you in being in my bedroom when Mr. Malfoy and myself were occupied with each other, was most unfortunate."  
  
"... You really think so?"  
  
"Of course." Snape's face was gentle. "You must have been traumatized," he said softly."  
  
Harry found himself shaking and wanting badly to believe that Snape was being truthful with him.  
  
"Come here, Harry."  
  
"N-no-"  
  
"Come here."  
  
Harry stumbled towards Snape and found himself standing on trembling limbs in front of the seated professor. He couldn't bear to look at the other wizard and instead kept his eyes cast downward on his wand clenched in his fist.  
  
"Take them off, Harry." He refused to, backing away from Snape's bound hands. When the Potions Master didn't even try to grab him, Harry felt extremely awkward until finally he could no longer stand another second of heavy silence while feeling Snape's eyes staring at him.  
  
He regretted the instant he uttered the counterspell that did away the restraints; however, it was too late to reverse it. And neither could he move. A roaring sound deafened his ears as the rope around Snape's wrists disappeared. Harry looked up to see Snape's black eyes glittering dangerously.  
  
***  
  
It was done.  
  
As soon as he had gone around the corner that would hide him from the Fat Lady's sight, he took off his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
Never again, Snape thought, seeing but not really seeing the shimmering material in his hand. It wouldn't have mattered had he taken it off in front of the portrait door leading to the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was asleep. When he had brought Harry Potter, asleep as well and wrapped in his own cloak, Snape had been worried on how to get inside without being recognized.  
  
He knew the password from Potter himself, but the Fat Lady would have surely been suspicious that the Slytherin House Head was bringing back a Gryffindor student in the wee hours of the morning. Fortunately, she had just opened the portrait without opening her eyes when Snape muttered the password.  
  
"Try not to be so late next time, dearie... zzzzz..."  
  
Snape never wanted to do that again.  
  
***  
  
"Hurry or we'll be late for Transfigurations!" Hermione was waiting on top of the stairs, looking as though she was about to go ahead without them.  
  
"Go ahead," called Ron. "Tell Professor McGonagall we'll be a little late. I have to help Harry to the hospital wing."  
  
"It's just a headache, Ron," said Harry, wincing a little. "I can go alone. You two go on without me."  
  
"Is it your scar, Harry?" Hermione met them halfway on the flight.  
  
"No, it isn't. Just a regular one."  
  
"I still should come along with you, Harry."  
  
"Ron, you're just looking for an excuse to miss class!"  
  
"No, I'm not, Hermione. How could you even say such a thing? I just don't want to abandon a sick friend on his own, unlike you who would-"  
  
A cold voice interrupted him. "Your innate blabbering isn't helping your sick friend, Mr. Weasley, and neither are Miss Granger's blatant exhibitions."  
  
The trio turned around in unison to find Snape several steps below them.  
  
***  
  
"I can make it on my own, Professor. You don't have to accompany me." Potter was clearly nervous in his presence. Snape gave him a grim smile.  
  
"I will bring you to the hospital wing as I had said I would, and I will not leave your side until you are safely in Madam Pomfrey's care."  
  
Snape watched the boy's face carefully, looking for any signs of embarrassment. Potter merely looked disconcerted and irritated.  
  
The Memory Charm was holding.  
  
***  
  
"Alright! Let's try that maneuver again!" Snape heard George Weasley's yell clearly as even before he emerged into the bleachers. The first thing he saw when he stepped into the sunlight was three red and gold blurs in Hawkshead Attacking Formation. It was the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's turn to use the pitch for practice.  
  
Though it didn't necessarily mean they had the stadium all to themselves. Snape kept his expression carefully blank as the opposition gestured at him and muttered amongst themselves. With him around, they dared not practice any new plays. Not that they had been able to do so in this practice.  
  
Snape seated himself beside Draco, who glanced at him with a slight smile before turning his attention back to the field.  
  
"Anything of interest?" Snape asked, looking in the direction Draco was staring. It was Harry Potter, doing rollovers on his broomstick.  
  
There was a long pause before Draco muttered, "Potter has been practicing Spiral Speeding." He sounded bitter.  
  
Snape glanced at him. "I am not surprise. Certainly he couldn't resist doing it himself after seeing you use it in the last game."  
  
He could see a muscle tick in Draco's cheek. "... I should have gotten the Snitch," he whispered.  
  
"You will catch it next time, Draco."  
  
"No, I won't. I never do."  
  
"Draco-"  
  
"He always gets it before me," Draco ground out. He jumped to his feet and pushed passed Snape, who almost grabbed him. Snape clenched his hands on his knees instead, watching Draco disappear down the aisle.  
  
He exhaled. Lucius, you imbecile. You spoiled him too much... And I am doing the same. ... Can I do the same to your son what I had done to James Potter's?  
  
Snape looked back to the field. Harry Potter was now flying around the pitch, dodging bludgers being pelted his way by the Weasley Twins. After a while, he stood up and left.  
  
***  
  
"Good. They're gone," said Fred, hitting a bludger dead on at Harry, who twirled, avoiding it easily.  
  
"Why do you think Snape came here?" wondered George, doing a rollover as he whapped the other bludger at Harry.  
  
"Probably to jinx us." Fred shivered.  
  
"It looked like he was giving Draco a pep talk," said Angelina as she passed the Quaffle to Alicia.  
  
"Probably," said Harry lazily as he did a loop de loop. "Draco needs all the help he can get."  
  
The End.  
  
There will be a sequel. If you have feedback, please email me or use FF.net's review system. It's always nice to know what other people think of the story. ~Lynn (lynneth_ang@yahoo.com) 


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